


As Strong As We Are United

by WinterSky101



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apparating (Harry Potter), Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Cedric Diggory Lives, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Mild Blood, POV Cedric Diggory, Splinching (Harry Potter), Triwizard Tournament
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSky101/pseuds/WinterSky101
Summary: "Kill the spare," a cold voice said, and Cedric heaved Harry to his feet and turned on the spot before the other voice could finish even the first syllable of the Killing Curse.The confrontation in the graveyard goes differently, and the Wizarding World is forever changed.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory & Harry Potter
Comments: 36
Kudos: 335





	As Strong As We Are United

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Dumbledore’s eulogy for Cedric: "I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided."

The graveyard was silent. Cedric managed to keep his footing as they landed, but Harry wasn't so lucky; he pitched forward, dropping the Triwizard Cup. Cedric's senses all leapt to high alert, and a shiver ran down his spine.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Cedric shook his head and pulled Harry to his feet. He didn't think they should make noise, not yet. Not until they'd figured out what was happening here.

He looked around, trying to determine where they were. Unfortunately, none of the landmarks were familiar to him. The graveyard was overgrown but otherwise unremarkable, and the only landmark of note - a grand house on a hillside to their left - was too far away for Cedric to see clearly. He looked down at the cup, then looked at Harry, who seemed as puzzled as he was.

"Did anyone tell _you_ the cup was a Portkey?" he asked anyway, keeping his voice quiet.

"Nope," Harry replied. He looked on edge. Cedric felt the same. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno." Cedric did his best not to let his nerves show through in his voice, but he wasn't sure how well he managed it. Still, he'd have to be the one in charge; he was older and uninjured, so Harry would have to be under his protection.

Still...

"Wands out, d'you reckon?" he suggested, because Harry should still be able to defend himself if he had to.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, pulling out his wand. He was looking around in quick, nervous gestures that made Cedric even more anxious. It was almost as if he thought-

"Someone's coming," Harry hissed.

Cedric tightened his grip on his wand. Someone was indeed coming, walking towards them through the tombstones. They seemed to be carrying something, either a bundle of robes or... Was there something alive in there?

Cedric shot Harry a look, wondering if he understood any more than Cedric himself. Given that Harry shot Cedric a similar look at the same time, that was unlikely. They both looked back at the figure, who was now a scant six feet away.

And then, without warning, Harry crumpled to the ground, hands over his face. Cedric bent down quickly, trying to figure out what was wrong, scooping up Harry's wand from the ground in front of him just in case-

"Kill the spare," a cold voice said, and Cedric heaved Harry to his feet and turned on the spot before the other voice could finish even the first syllable of the Killing Curse.

Apparition was always unpleasant, but it was worse than usual this time. Cedric kept a firm grip on Harry and on their wands, hoping they would all stick together, and then finally they burst into the real world again, falling forward onto wet leaves and mud. Harry retched while Cedric tried to pull himself back to his feet, both wands still gripped tightly in his hand.

"Where are we?" Harry rasped after a few moments. He sounded terrible.

"I dunno," Cedric admitted. "I just got us out of there as fast as I could."

Harry slowly sat up. His face was paler than usual, and the tight lines around his mouth seemed to indicate that he was still in some level of pain.

"Looks a little familiar," he remarked, looking at the forest around them. "This isn't the Forbidden Forest, is it?"

"Can't be," Cedric replied. "You can't Apparate on or off of Hogwarts grounds. I think..."

The words trailed off as he lost his train of thought, and he swayed on his feet. He felt light-headed, and he didn't think it was just from the adrenaline.

"Diggory?" Harry asked, frowning. "Cedric, are you-" His eyes went wide. "You're bleeding."

Cedric followed Harry's gaze and saw that there was indeed a blood stain blossoming on his shirt, just above his hip. "Oh," he said in a distant sounding voice. "Must have Splinched myself."

"Splinched- What?" Harry demanded. "You're bleeding, what-"

"Guess I wasn't concentrating enough," Cedric mused, lifting his shirt and eyeing the bloody furrow in his side. He knew spells to help with wounds like this, but he couldn't remember how they went.

Harry turned vaguely green. "What the hell is that?"

"I Splinched myself," Cedric explained again, wondering how his voice could sound so calm. "It's when you Apparate and leave part of yourself behind."

Harry looked like he might throw up again. He quickly scanned his own body, apparently checking to make sure he was all there, and then levered himself to his feet.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Should be," Cedric replied, wondering if he should try to apply pressure with something to stop the bleeding and ultimately deciding that his hand and his shirt, the two best things to use, were both far too filthy to press against an open wound. He looked down at his wand with vague thoughts of cleaning himself up or conjuring something to help and realized he was still holding Harry's as well.

"Oh, right. This is yours."

Harry blinked at the wand, then took it out of Cedric's hand. "Thanks. Do you know any healing spells or anything for that? The only one I know is for waking people up after they're stunned."

"I can't remember any right now," Cedric admitted.

Harry looked down at his own leg, which was still sluggishly bleeding. "I actually might know something for this," he remarked, and he tapped his leg and said, " _Ferula_."

"Not bad," Cedric complimented as bandages wrapped tightly around Harry's leg, splinting it for good measure. "That's normally used for fractures or breaks, but it'll do for now."

"I think I sprained my ankle anyway," Harry replied. He looked over at Cedric. "Will it work for you?"

"Not really," Cedric replied. "That charm splints things. It's only used for limbs. I don't know how it would work on something like this, but I don't think it would work well. But..." He waved his wand, concentrating, and conjured a roll of bandages. He still wished he could remember a healing spell or two, but at least this was something. "We can do it the old fashioned way."

Harry nodded. "Sit down and let me help."

Cedric gingerly sat on a nearby rock, gritting his teeth as the movement pulled at the furrow of missing flesh. "Let me clean it first," he said, conjuring a handkerchief and wetting it with a quick _"Aguamenti."_ Harry watched as he cleaned the wound the best he could, then Cedric sat still and let Harry wind bandages around his torso, awkwardly fumbling them into a knot at the end to tie them off.

"What happened?" Cedric finally asked. "In the graveyard. Who was that?"

Harry slowly leaned back, then sat down next to Cedric on the rock, stretching his wounded leg out in front of him.

"The voice was Voldemort's," he said quietly. "And I'm not sure, but I think the other person was Peter Pettigrew."

"They're both supposed to be dead," Cedric countered, his mind immediately denying the very possibility. "You-Know-Who's been gone for thirteen years, and Pettigrew was killed by Sirius Black."

"Sirius didn't kill Pettigrew," Harry corrected. "And he wasn't a Death Eater. Pettigrew was. He faked his death and framed Sirius for it, and then last year he returned to Voldemort's service."

Cedric's brain, which was still fuzzy but sharpening a little, noted the way Harry spoke about a mass murderer - or maybe not a mass murderer after all, from the sound of it? - like he knew him personally, but ultimately decided whatever relationship Harry had with Sirius Black was far from the most important topic right now. "I thought You-Know-Who died when he tried to kill you. That's what ended the war."

"I don't exactly know what happened," Harry admitted, "but he didn't fully die. He's weak, but alive. I'm not sure he has a body, though. He possessed Quirrell three years ago. That's why he always wore that turban, because he had Voldemort's head sticking out of the back of his. And Voldemort was the Heir of Slytherin too. He possessed... someone else and made them open the Chamber of Secrets. Didn't do much last year, I don't think, but Pettigrew did go back to him, and I think they might have killed people this past summer."

Cedric gaped at Harry, then decided to focus on the parts of that statement that he could comprehend. "So You-Know-Who is still alive, but he's sort of like a ghost?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed. "I think Dumbledore knows more about it. More than he's telling me, anyway."

"Dumbledore always knows more than he tells anyone," Cedric replied absently. "So that voice, the voice that said..." The words died in his throat, but he thought Harry would know what he meant. "That was You-Know-Who?"

Harry nodded.

"I was the spare, then, wasn't I?" Cedric asked, his voice growing a little distant again. That Killing Curse he'd barely been able to Apparate away from, that was intended for him.

Harry hesitated, then nodded again. "I have these... dreams sometimes," he admitted after a moment. "About Voldemort. They're not just nightmares, it's almost like I can see him and what he's doing. And my scar hurts when I have the dreams, or whenever I'm near Voldemort. That's what happened in the graveyard. And... I don't know if you read the Prophet this morning, but that's what Rita Skeeter was talking about, what happened when I was in Divination."

"I ignore anything with that woman's name on the byline," Cedric promised. "So... Did you have any dreams about this?"

"Not about this specifically, but..." Harry shifted slightly on the rock. "I knew Voldemort was going to come after me. I had dreams about it. He wants me for something, I dunno what. But I didn't know he'd do it in the task. I didn't know anything about that, I swear."

"I believe you," Cedric replied, his voice weary. "But whatever he wanted you for, he couldn't have done it, could he? I mean, we were only there for a minute."

"I don't think he could have," Harry agreed tentatively. "But I don't really know what his plan was in the first place."

Cedric sighed, then he stood, ignoring the pain in his side. "We should figure out where we are and figure out a way back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore needs to know what happened."

"Right," Harry agreed, shuffling awkwardly to his feet. "Do you have any clue where we are?"

"I think it's somewhere I've been before," Cedric said, looking around. "You were right, it's familiar. I can't quite place it, though. You?"

Harry slowly turned in a circle, looking around. "I think... I mean, it's just a forest, so I'm not sure, but... Is this where they held the World Cup?"

Cedric copied Harry, turning around and looking. "Might be, yeah. Yeah, I think you're right. Good. At least that means we're still in Britain, then."

Harry looked over at Cedric in alarm, as if he hadn't known that potentially having left the country was a concern. Cedric wished he could say it wasn't, but he really hadn't been thinking at all about where he was going when he Apparated them away. Anywhere was better than that graveyard.

"How are we going to get back to Hogwarts from here?" Harry asked. "Can we, you know, Apparate again?" He seemed to be eyeing Cedric with concern, as if he thought Cedric couldn't manage the feat. To be entirely honest, Cedric wasn't sure that he could, but it was their only option, unless they found a friendly witch or wizard who would let them use their fireplace.

"Don't think we've got much of another choice," Cedric replied. "Hold onto my arm, don't let go, and think about Hogsmeade. Imagine the spot right in front of the Three Broomsticks."

"Why there?" Harry asked, taking Cedric's proffered arm and gripping it tightly.

"It's the closest place to Hogwarts I'm sure people can Apparate to," Cedric replied. "I'm not sure where the boundaries of Hogwarts' Anti-Apparition Charm are, but I don't want to risk it."

"Right," Harry agreed, tightening his grip a little. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Cedric replied, and he turned on the spot.

After the usual awful feeling of compression, Harry and Cedric appeared in a familiar, empty street. Cedric let out a sigh of relief. The Three Broomsticks was right in front of them, and Madam Rosmerta was rushing out, and they were finally safe.

"Cedric Diggory?" Madam Rosmerta shrieked. "Harry Potter, is that you? Aren't you two supposed to be competing in the Triwizard Tournament right now? Merlin's beard, what happened to you?"

"Can you send word up to Professor Dumbledore, please?" Cedric asked, feeling himself sway on the spot. "We need to speak with him."

"Of course, dear," Madam Rosmerta assured him. "Both of you, come inside, you look like you're about to collapse!"

Harry and Cedric gratefully stumbled into the pub, sinking into the closest booth. They got a few curious stares from other patrons, but thankfully, the pub was almost empty. Harry offered Cedric a wan smile as Madam Rosmerta fluttered around them and hurried off to the back to get them something to drink. "You wait right here!" she called. "I'll send word up to the castle straight away!"

"We don't have the cup," Harry said after a moment.

Cedric blinked at him. "What?"

"The Triwizard Cup," Harry elaborated. "We left it at the graveyard."

Cedric couldn't help but snort. "Merlin, Potter, that cup is the least of my worries right now."

"I wonder who enchanted it," Harry said, leaning back in his seat slightly.

"I do too," Cedric agreed. "I imagine Dumbledore will figure it out."

The slightest flash of a smile crossed Harry's face. "Do you think he'll tell us if he knows?"

"He'd better," Cedric replied, not entirely sure he was joking.

Madam Rosmerta bustled over then, holding two butterbeers. "Here you are, dears, on the house," she told them, setting the bottles down in front of them. "And I've sent a message up to the castle, so someone should be down here any minute. You two just sit tight and rest now. You certainly look like you need it. Goodness, why they decided to start up that awful tournament again, I'll never understand."

Someone across the pub called for Madam Rosmerta, and she hurried off. Cedric lifted his butterbeer and took a long sip, letting its familiar flavor fill him with a reassurance he hadn't felt since he went into the maze at the very least.

"What do you think Voldemort will do now?" Harry asked quietly, turning his bottle of butterbeer in his hands in lieu of drinking from it. "We messed up whatever he was planning, but he won't give in that easily."

Cedric set down his own bottle, feeling his side throb with the movement. "You said You-Know-Who wanted you, right? But you don't know why?"

"No, but I think Pettigrew said something about another wizard working instead," Harry replied. "But Voldemort said he'd waited long enough and could wait a little longer. That was over the summer, though. I don't know how much longer he'll wait."

"In that case," Cedric said, "I imagine he'll make another move against you soon. Whatever he was planning at the graveyard, he'll want to finish it."

Harry paled slightly, but he looked resolute, far too resolute for a fourteen year old. "You won't be alone," Cedric added quickly. "We'll tell Professor Dumbledore, and I'm sure he'll figure out some sort of protection for you. And worst case scenario, I'll just stick around."

"You don't need to do that," Harry dismissed quickly. "It's too dangerous."

"I'm of age, Potter. You can't stop me." Cedric shrugged, managing a little grin. "I saved you last time, didn't I? Give me a chance to do it again."

Before Harry had a chance to respond, the front door exploded open, prompting shrieks throughout the entire pub. Cedric's adrenaline immediately surged back into his veins, and he shoved Harry behind him as he drew his wand. "Stay back."

"Diggory-"

"I just told you I'd protect you, didn't I?" Cedric countered. "Let me deal with this."

It was a brave statement, more deserving of a Gryffindor than a Hufflepuff, but honestly, Cedric wasn't sure if he could keep to it. He was a decent duelist, but against whomever this was? He wasn't sure he had a chance.

And then a figure stumped into the pub, and Cedric immediately knew they were either saved or doomed.

"Professor Moody?" Harry asked, peeking around Cedric's back. "What-"

" _Crucio_!" Moody yelled, pointing his wand at Harry. Cedric grabbed him and shoved both of them under the table, and the spell exploded against the wall behind them.

"What- That's Moody!" Harry protested. "What's going on?"

"He must be Imperiused," Cedric replied, although the thought of someone managing to get the Imperius Curse on Mad-Eye Moody was almost unthinkable. "Stay down."

"What- Cedric!"

But Cedric had already popped out from behind the table, shooting out an _"Impedimenta!"_ as he did. Moody deflected the jinx with a flick of his wand, then parried with a silvery jet of light that only Cedric's quick Seeker reflexes let him avoid. He shot back a non-verbal _Depulso_ , which was deflected, then tried a quick _Flipendo_ and was again blocked. Moody's next curse looked like purple fire, but Cedric's frantic Shield Charm deflected it so he felt nothing but a flash of heat.

"I'm here for Potter, not you, Diggory!" Moody bellowed. "Stand aside!"

" _Stupefy_!" Cedric yelled back.

Moody growled and shot another unknown spell at Cedric, this one a blast of bluish-white light. It grazed Cedric's left shoulder and immediately made his entire arm go numb and freezing cold, but he was already spending back an _"Incarcerous!"_ Moody sidestepped the ropes and shot another spell that hit Cedric in the gut like a cannonball, sending him flying across the pub. Someone screamed as he hit the wall, but he didn't know who. His wand fell from his grip, but he scrabbled for it immediately, trying to focus his newly-doubled vision enough to aim at Moody, who was stalking towards him with his wand drawn.

"Wait!" a voice yelled. Harry scrambled out from under the table, hands up. "Professor Moody, stop! I'm here!"

"Harry, no!" Cedric yelled, trying to push himself up and almost falling again as his still-numb left arm failed to move. "Get out! Run!"

"Leave him alone," Harry said in a voice that just barely trembled, limping towards Moody. "You said I was the one you wanted."

Moody turned, clearly more interested in Harry's offer than finishing Cedric off, and Cedric took the opportunity to try to hit him in the back with a non-verbal _Expelliarmus!_ Somehow, Moody saw the spell coming and deflected it, turning back to Cedric with a murderous expression. Cedric swallowed, trying to get to his feet-

And then a spell shot over Harry's shoulder and hit Moody in the back of the head, and as he keeled over on the ground, a familiar figure strode into the pub.

"Dumbledore," Harry breathed, turning around. "Professor, we need to tell you something important."

"I imagine you do," Dumbledore agreed. "But first, I believe we ought to relocate to somewhere a bit... quieter."

Cedric looked at the wreckage of the Three Broomsticks and the awestruck, terrified patrons around them and thought Dumbledore probably had a point.

Professors McGonagall and Sprout entered the pub, Professor McGonagall rushing to Harry's side while Professor Sprout went over to Cedric. "Alright there, Mr. Diggory?" she asked gently. "Come on, let's get you up."

"I believe the Hog's Head may prove a more suitable location for this discussion," Dumbledore stated. He flicked his wand, and a silvery wisp flew out of the end and soared out the door. Then he flicked his wand again and Moody's unconscious body floated a few feet into the air. "My deepest apologies, Madam Rosmerta, for the mess."

With that, Dumbledore led the way out of the pub, Moody's body floating after him. Professor McGonagall helped Harry limp out, then Professor Sprout helped Cedric follow them.

"I'm sorry, Madam Rosmerta," Cedric apologized as they passed her. "If you need any help with repairs-"

"It wasn't your fault, dear," Madam Rosmerta assured him, patting Cedric's shoulder gently. "Go along now. You don't want to keep Professor Dumbledore waiting."

"It was quite a shock to get her message," Professor Sprout told Cedric conversationally as they limped towards the Hog's Head. "We'd gotten Krum and Delacour out of the maze already, and we were all waiting to see which of you would win the cup, and then suddenly there's an owl swooping down with a message for Albus, and he grabbed me and Minerva and told us we had to get down to Hogsmeade as quickly as possible." Professor Sprout glared at Moody's unconscious body. "Not quite sure how _he_ knew what was happening. I wasn't expecting _that_ one, I can tell you."

"Neither was I," Cedric agreed, trying experimentally and unsuccessfully to move his still-numb left arm.

"He must have taught you well, if you were able to hold him off so long," Professor Sprout complimented. "I'd give you House points, but I'm not sure if Albus wants this getting out."

"I couldn't beat him," Cedric countered. "He would have killed me if Professor Dumbledore hadn't stopped him."

"If that truly is Alastor Moody, the fact that you were able to go up against him at all is impressive," Professor Sprout replied. "Now, how badly are you hurt? Should I call for Poppy?"

"I'll be fine," Cedric assured her as they limped into the Hog's Head. Professor McGonagall was fussing over Harry, whose gaze was flickering nervously between her, Dumbledore, and Moody. A measure of relief seemed to pass over his face when he saw Cedric.

"Minerva, Pomona," Dumbledore stated as Professor Sprout helped Cedric into a chair, "I will need both of you to return to Hogwarts to retrieve things and then return here. Pomona, please have Severus give you the strongest Truth Potion he possesses, then go down to the kitchens and fetch the house-elf called Winky. Please bring both back here as soon as possible. Minerva, kindly go to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him as quickly as possible, then come back here as well."

Cedric had no idea what those orders meant, and from the looks on their faces, it seemed Professors McGonagall and Sprout didn't know either. "Albus," Professor McGonagall said in a low voice, "I think we ought to take these boys to the Hospital Wing and interrogate... whomever this is separately."

"They need to stay, Minerva," Dumbledore replied simply.

"We need to tell Professor Dumbledore what happened," Harry added.

"We'll be alright," Cedric assured her.

Professor Sprout squeezed Cedric's shoulder gently, then turned to Professor McGonagall. Neither of them seemed to like it, but they both left the pub.

"Now," Dumbledore said, sitting across from Harry and Cedric and steepling his fingers, "if you share your side of the night with me, I will share what I know with you."

Cedric shot a glance at Moody, whom Dumbledore had bound to a chair, then turned back. "Sir, is that really Alastor Moody?"

"No, I believe not," Dumbledore replied. "It is my belief that this man is an imposter, using the Polyjuice Potion to assume Alastor Moody's form. A simple enough thing to prove, actually." He stood and picked up Moody's hip flask, then he unscrewed it and turned it over. A thick, glutinous liquid splattered onto the floor.

"As I thought," Dumbledore sighed, cleaning up the spill with a wave of his wand. "As it stands, we will have to wait at most an hour to discover the fake Moody's true identity. I cannot help but think it is likely to be shorter. Either way, we will have time for your story before we move on to his." Dumbledore fixed his piercing blue gaze first on Harry, then Cedric. "Please explain everything that happened tonight."

Harry shot Cedric a look, then tentatively began. "Well... The cup was a Portkey. We were both at the pedestal at the same time, and we'd helped each other through the maze, so we decided to take take it together."

"A very honorable decision," Dumbledore complimented. "Where did the Portkey take you?"

"A graveyard," Cedric said, his voice unexpectedly hoarse. He abruptly wished he'd had more of his butterbeer. "I don't know where. It was dark. There was a hill nearby, with a manor house on it."

For some reason, Dumbledore's eyes seemed to spark with interest at the mention of the manor house, but he didn't ask for any more details on it. "And I assume you were not alone in this graveyard?"

"Voldemort was there," Harry said. "And Wormtail. Er, Peter Pettigrew."

"Did you see Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked with interest.

"No," Harry replied. "At least, I don't think so. Wormtail had this bundle, but it only looked big enough for a baby."

"That's where the voice came from, though," Cedric replied.

"So you heard him?" Dumbledore asked, turning to Cedric.

"He said-" Cedric's voice threatened to fail him, but he forced the words out. "He said to kill the spare."

Dumbledore's face was very grim, and there was sympathy in his eyes as he looked at Cedric. He'd clearly come to the same conclusion Cedric had; Cedric himself was the spare, and Lord Voldemort had wanted him dead.

"My scar hurt when Voldemort got close," Harry jumped in. "I couldn't even think, but Cedric got us out. He Apparated us away just before the Killing Curse would have hit."

"Well done," Dumbledore complimented. "The ability to keep your wits in such a situation is one that many full-grown witches and wizards do not have. Your quick thinking does you credit, Mr. Diggory."

"He brought us to the woods where they held the Quidditch World Cup this summer," Harry continued. "And we cleaned up our wounds the best we could, then we Apparated to the Three Broomsticks and Madam Rosmerta brought us inside."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "If I may back up your narrative slightly... What wounds did you two sustain?"

"I got hurt in the maze," Harry replied, gesturing at his leg. "The giant spider got me, and I sprained my ankle when it dropped me. Cedric helped me defeat it. And Cedric got hurt when we Apparated away."

Dumbledore turned to Cedric, who felt a flush of embarrassment. "I Splinched myself. Not badly, though. Just a bit of flesh from my side."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "Understandable, given the Killing Curse that was aimed at you. It's not uncommon for wizards Apparating away from curses to be Splinched by them. And your arm?"

Cedric looked down at his left arm, which was still worryingly numb. "He did that," he said, jerking his chin in the fake Moody's direction. "I didn't recognize the spell. It grazed my shoulder and my whole arm went numb."

Harry looked at Cedric in shock and horror. "We should have tried to take him together."

"Mr. Diggory did a very good job of holding off this imposter until I could arrive," Dumbledore cut in. "I believe I can put together the rest of your story now. You entered the Three Broomsticks with Madam Rosmerta, who sent a message to me, and then the imposter arrived and attacked you, yes?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "How did he know where to find us?"

"That is one of many things we must ask this imposter when we wake him up," Dumbledore replied. "Which we cannot do until Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall return, I'm afraid."

"You said you would tell us what you knew, sir," Cedric put in. "Do you have any idea what You-Know-Who wanted to do in that graveyard?"

"I have only thoughts and conjectures, Mr. Diggory, each one more terrible than the last," Dumbledore replied. "I would like to hear what our fake Moody has to say before sharing any, as I believe he will be able to shed some light on the situation. However, I will say that I believe you Apparating yourself and Harry away from that graveyard may well have been a great blow to Voldemort's plans, and for that, I must salute you."

The compliment was flattering, of course, but Cedric couldn't help but notice that Dumbledore hadn't actually answered his question. He was about to ask again when Harry's eyes went wide and he pointed behind them. "Professor, look!"

Cedric and Dumbledore both turned. Behind them, the fake Moody was changing, his body twitching, his face smoothing out and his stump of a leg regrowing. Cedric watched in mingled awe and horror as the man's magical eye popped out and a real one grew in its place, while the magical eye spun around on the floor. The man who had been Moody was fair-haired and freckled, and he looked as if he was most likely in his mid-thirties.

"Sir," Harry said quietly, "is that..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Harry, Mr. Diggory, may I introduce to you the man who impersonated Alastor Moody all year: Bartemius Crouch, Jr."

"The son of Mr. Crouch from the Ministry?" Cedric asked. Crouch didn't seem like the type to have children, but Cedric didn't know much of him beyond what he'd seen in the early days of the Tournament.

"The very same," Dumbledore agreed with a nod.

"But he's dead!" Harry blurted out. "He went to Azkaban and died there, didn't he? That's what Si- what someone told me."

"That is indeed what was widely believed," Dumbledore agreed again. "How he found himself alive and in my school is one of the many questions I must ask young Mr. Crouch."

Professors McGonagall and Sprout appeared in the doorway of the Hog's Head just then, but they both stopped short upon seeing the new figure in the chair.

"Good heavens," Professor McGonagall breathed.

"That's never Barty Crouch?" Professor Sprout demanded. "Albus, isn't he dead?"

"So we thought," Dumbledore tried to say, but before he could get the words out, a small, disheveled figure burst out from behind Professor Sprout's legs with a shriek.

"Master Barty!" the creature screamed, rushing forward. She was a house-elf, Cedric realized, and apparently one who knew Crouch well. She threw herself at him and wailed, "You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply Stunned, Winky. Step aside, please," Dumbledore told her, and with the added context of a connection to the Crouch family, Cedric realized he knew the name. Winky was Mr. Crouch, Sr.'s former house-elf, the one who'd been found with the wand that summoned the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup and subsequently sacked. How she'd ended up at Hogwarts, Cedric had no clue, but he wasn't sure he had the brainpower to contemplate it tonight. Between the blood loss and general exhaustion, Cedric rather felt like returning to his dormitory and sleeping for at least a full day, and it was only the promise of an explanation from Dumbledore that kept him from doing exactly that.

"Pomona, you have the potion?" Dumbledore asked. Professor Sprout nodded quickly and handed Dumbledore a small vial of clear liquid. Given that Dumbledore had asked for a truth serum, Cedric assumed it was Veritaserum. Dumbledore opened Crouch's mouth and poured three drops of potion into it, then he pointed his wand at Crouch's chest and said, " _Ennervate_."

Crouch's eyes opened, hazy and unfocused. "Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Yes," he muttered.

Dumbledore coaxed Crouch's story out of him slowly, and Cedric did his best not to let his mind drift too far. Crouch, a Death Eater, had been sentenced to Azkaban after Voldemort's fall, and then Crouch's father, the one who worked at the Ministry, had smuggled him out and kept him under his control, up until Voldemort arrived at his door.

"It was very quick," Crouch said, sounding like he relished the memory. Cedric forced himself to pay attention. "My father was placed under the Imperius Curse by my master. Now my father was the one imprisoned, controlled. My master forced him to go about his business as usual, to act as though nothing was wrong. And I was released. I awoke. I was myself again, alive as I hadn't been in years."

"And what did Lord Voldemort ask you to do?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Professor Sprout, who had sat down next to Cedric at the beginning of Crouch's story, flinched at the name.

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so."

Cedric shot Harry a look and saw that Harry had the same wide-eyed expression Cedric knew was on his own face. In retrospect, it _had_ been Moody - or so he'd thought - who'd subtly implied to Cedric he had to open the egg from the first task underwater, and of course Cedric had immediately told Harry to thank him for the dragon clue. Had Crouch given Harry that clue too? How many strings had he pulled?

"A servant who would watch over Harry Potter," Crouch continued. "Ensure he reached the Triwizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first-"

"You needed Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said. How his voice remained so calm, Cedric had no idea. His stomach was roiling, and he felt both terrified and furious. So Crouch had been the one to turn the cup into a Portkey. Crouch had been the one who'd almost gotten Cedric killed. Crouch had been manipulating all of them from the beginning.

Crouch explained how he'd captured the real Alastor Moody, then how his father had began to break free from the Imperius Curse. Cedric thought he might be sick when Crouch talked about how he killed his father over it. Winky wailed and sobbed, but Dumbledore kept questioning Crouch in the same soft voice.

"And tonight..." he prompted.

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," Crouch whispered. "Turned it into a Portkey. But my master's plan failed. Potter lives. My master has not awoken. I would have felt it. He would have called me." Crouch looked down at his arm, and Dumbledore pushed up his sleeve. The Dark Mark was branded into his skin, dark gray and slightly blurred. "He has not called us," Crouch continued. "He has not summoned his Death Eaters. He hasn't punished the ones who walked away from him, the ones who lied and went free. I would know if he had."

"You said that Voldemort's plan required Harry to be brought to him," Dumbledore said. "What did he intend to do?"

"Ancient magic," Crouch replied. "Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy. With them, he would build himself a new body, and he would return in all his glory."

"He wanted my blood," Harry said quietly.

Crouch's gaze turned to him. "I knew when you took the Portkey. When my master did not call me, I knew something had gone wrong. I was patrolling the edges of the maze. When I saw an owl fly up from Hogsmeade, I took a chance on it being important and went to its source. I found you." Crouch scowled. "I would have brought you to the Dark Lord myself if Diggory and Dumbledore hadn't interfered. I would have been honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

For a long moment, there was silence. Finally, Dumbledore sighed and turned back to the others. "Minerva, Pomona, I must ask more of you tonight. Minerva, please go up to the grounds and find Cornelius Fudge. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him he is here. Pomona, please go to the Defense office and search it for the real Alastor Moody. I believe you will find him hidden somewhere there, and most likely in poor condition. Bring Poppy along with you. I am sure he will need to be relocated to the hospital wing."

"And you and the boys?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I will bring both of them back to Hogwarts shortly," Dumbledore replied.

"And leave Crouch?" Professor Sprout protested.

"The barman here is well versed in dueling," Dumbledore replied. "I trust in his ability to keep Mr. Crouch contained."

Professor McGonagall put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "And you will let the boys rest, won't you? They need it, Albus."

"I will not ask more of either of them than they can give," Dumbledore promised. Cedric hoped he intended to keep that promise; he didn't feel like he could give much more tonight.

"That's the best we're going to get, Minerva," Professor Sprout said. She clapped Cedric's shoulder gently. "I'll make sure your parents know you're alright."

Cedric tried his best to smile. "Thank you, Professor."

The professors hurried off, and Cedric was left with Harry, Dumbledore, Crouch, and Winky, who was still wailing. "Professor?" Harry said tentatively. "There's a house-elf at Hogwarts named Dobby who's friends with Winky. Maybe we should call him to take care of her?"

"An excellent idea," Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "You may do the honors."

"Dobby?" Harry called.

There was a loud _crack_ , and another house-elf appeared, this one wearing the most eclectic collection of clothes Cedric had ever seen. "Harry Potter, sir!" he squeaked, looking delighted to have been called. "Dobby has been waiting for you to call him again, sir! What can Dobby be doing for Harry Potter?"

"Hi, Dobby," Harry said, shooting Cedric a slightly embarrassed look. If he thought Cedric would judge him for being friends with a house-elf, he was wrong; Cedric had done his fair share of sneaking into the kitchens, and he was friendly with many of the Hogwarts elves. "Er, Winky just got some... bad news. Do you think you could bring her somewhere she can, er, process?"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby agreed immediately. "Dobby will take Winky to the kitchens straight away!"

Dobby grabbed Winky's arm and pulled her off of Crouch, then the two of them disappeared with a loud _crack_. Cedric hadn't even realized how loud her sobs truly were until the pub went almost silent without them.

"Well," Dumbledore stated, "I believe we may return to the castle now, unless either of you have any more you wish to tell me here or, of course, anything you wish to ask of young Mr. Crouch."

The thought of going back to the castle was a highly appealing one to Cedric, and from the look on Harry's face, he seemed to agree. Cedric opened his mouth to say just that when Crouch hissed sharply, looking down at his forearm. Cedric had just enough time to notice that the Dark Mark had turned black and crisp before Harry gasped and grabbed his head, and Cedric felt a sudden agony like someone was driving a spike through his brain.

"He's back!" Crouch crowed. "My master is back! You failed!"

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked urgently. "Mr. Diggory?"

"He's right," Harry forced out. "Voldemort is back. He's back, and he's-"

"Angry," Cedric cut in, certain he was right though he had no idea how he knew it. "He's furious."

Both Harry and Dumbledore looked up at Cedric. "Things didn't go as planned," Harry said slowly. "He and Wormtail messed up."

"And he wants to kill the people responsible," Cedric finished. He looked up at Dumbledore. "How do I know that?"

"He must have used the wrong blood," Crouch muttered.

Dumbledore whirled around to face him. "What did you say?"

"My master must have used the Diggory boy's blood instead of Potter's," Crouch explained, although he didn't look like he enjoyed saying it. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."

Harry looked at Cedric, wide-eyed. "But how would he..."

Cedric's hand slowly traveled down to the spot where he'd Splinched himself, apparently because of the curse Pettigrew had sent at him. If he'd left that piece of flesh in the graveyard, if it had bled out onto the ground...

Apparently, inducing a Splinching was enough for the blood to count as "forcibly taken."

"Then Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said, sounding weary. "Not as he planned, and not with the blood he wished, but he is still back."

Cedric tentatively raised a hand to his temple. The sudden headache had mostly dissipated, but there was still a weak throbbing in the back of his skull. "Am I... connected to him now?"

"There is, as far as I know, no recorded case of such a thing happening before," Dumbledore admitted. "There does seem to be some sort of connection now, but whether or not it will fade, I cannot say."

"Guess that makes two of us, then," Harry said with a weak smile.

"I imagine we will discover the strength of this bond with time," Dumbledore said. "For now, I believe both of you should accompany me back to the castle. If Voldemort has indeed returned, preparations will need to be made, and regardless, I believe both of you could use a visit to the hospital wing. We will figure out the future as we forge it."

Cedric looked over at Harry, who looked pale and tired and so very young. He'd told Cedric about his bond with Voldemort with a sense of tired acceptance. He'd told Cedric about all the things he'd had to do in the past few years as if those weren't things no child should have ever had to do.

If Harry could live under this bond, under this responsibility, then Cedric could join him and do his best to help keep it from crushing them.

"Whatever you have to do against You-Know-" Cedric stopped himself and tried again. "Against Voldemort. I want to be a part of it. I want to help."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "A brave decision, Mr. Diggory. For now, though, the most important thing is for you and Harry to rest and heal. Come with me, and you may do exactly that."

Dumbledore left the Hog's Head, leaving Harry and Cedric to follow after him. "Did you mean it?" Harry asked quietly. "That you want to help?"

"If Voldemort really is back, you're going to need all the help you can get," Cedric replied, doing his best not to shudder as the name passed his lips. "And he wants me dead. We both felt it. I'm not going to take that lying down."

A slow smile spread across Harry's face. "You know, Diggory, you're not so bad after all."

Cedric was exhausted and pained and overwhelmed, but he couldn't help but smile back. "Same to you, Potter."

**Author's Note:**

> My writing tumblr is [here](http://winterskywrites.tumblr.com/), if you're interested.


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